The WannaBe Hellboy
by Gin no raita wa bara
Summary: Have you ever met one of those people that, no matter how annoying or frustrating they are, you can't help but like them? Yeah, that's what it's like with my best friend.


_**The Wanna-Be Hellboy**_

Have you ever met one of those people that, no matter how annoying or frustrating they are, you can't help but like them? Even when they _try_ to be infuriating (and succeed…), you still can't help but want to be around them?

Yeah, that's what it's like with my best friend. He's the cocky one, the arrogant one, without a doubt the _most annoying creature _I have ever had the horror of meeting, and yet he's my best friend.

I suppose I was first drawn in by his looks. Who wouldn't be? His hair looks like gold when it shimmers in the sun. His eyes have the capability to put diamonds to shame. His smile could make anybody's day seem that much brighter. Everything about him screams 'gorgeous' and 'God'. I suppose his looks can drown out his obnoxious personality, though not to say he's _always _that way. Just most of the time.

Many a time I find myself staring at him, my thoughts revolving on how someone so intelligent and within their late teens could constantly do such _stupid_ things. Just yesterday the idiot was practically begging me to take him to Wal-Mart so he could try out the '100 Ways to get kicked out of Wal-Mart' list. Now, why a nineteen year old honor student would even _read_ that stupid list is beyond me, not to mention attempting to enact the said list in person.

Even now, right at this moment, I'm staring at him. I can see him sitting there, his arms flailing as he whines about all the homework he has. His plump lips are pulled out in a pout; his eye(s) are glistening from the unfallen tears (I believe the tears are from his constant talking and lack of breath as he continues to ramble), and his cheeks are a soft pink. His arms slammed down on the soft red comforter that lay sprawled on his bed, his body soon following.

"Danna, I think school is trying to kill me, un," he whimpers, raising his head to meet my eyes.

I scoffed, minutely amused at his conclusion, and rolled my eyes. "No, brat, school is not trying to kill you. Quite the contrary, actually."

He looked at me for a minute before whimpering again and flipping over to he's on his back, his head lolled backwards and hanging off the side of the mattress. The golden tresses he bares stream down like a Godly waterfall, gently caressing the black carpets on the ground. His bangs are flipped over his head, for once exposing his hidden cerulean eye.

"But Danna!" his arms wave erratically again, "you _know_ the teachers hate me!"

"No brat, they love you. The only one that doesn't is your Literary teacher, and that's only because you insist on torturing her every day."

"No, un!" he bolts up, nearly falling off the corner of the bassinet.

"No?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at his frazzled look.

"I mean, no, it's not my fault! She's the one who _always_ puts me down, un! I'm simple defending myself! She always starts it!" he wails, his blonde locks tickling his lower back.

"Yes, because you're the absolute _picture_ of perfection," I smirked at him, giving a snort of laughter at the pink tinge of embarrassment that colored his cheeks.

"Hey, un! _You_ still hang out with me!"

Indeed I do. I suppose it's stupid of me, really. But what am I to do? He's my best friend, and I am his. I just smirk lazily at him, setting down _The Lord of the Flies_ and rotating in his desk chair to fully face the blonde.

"Well I don't see you complaining."

He blinked at me for a second, before pouting and sticking his tongue out in my direction.

It was quiet for a few moments. Moments in which I spent my time indulging in my novel and the blonde spent his time basking in the large quantity of sculpt-able clay scattered around his bed. It was rare to have times like these when hanging around with him, times with complete silence. It's seldom, but appreciated. During these allotted hours, I find myself contemplating my relation with my blonde friend. Certainly, he's a pesky and annoying little thing, but he's the most gorgeous being I've ever seen. Though, what satisfies me most would be he's only him, _truly him_, when he's with _me_. Around me, he's smart, and beautiful, and caring. Around me, he acts like he did when we were children.

And around him, I act myself. He's the only thing that I can share myself with, the one who I can be me around and not feel afraid of being judged. Sure, he's absolutely _infuriating_, and when the two of us had out first encounter I had completely _loathed_ him, but now we're inseparable. He and I could spend hours on end, just talking and laughing about nothing. It's a special gift he has, I suppose. A gift that makes others around him admire his beauty and charm.

Many a time, friends at school would say we fight like a married couple, to which my best friend would reply in an amused and sarcastic voice that he wouldn't mind us getting married, and that I should just hurry up and purpose. The thing is though, I truly wouldn't mind, and if we weren't only seniors in high school, I would've done it by now. Although, that's not factoring in the fact I'm merely a secret admirer, and he remains utterly oblivious.

It's amazing, really. The fact that I can spend so much time with a single person and feel like I'm on a high. Before I met him, I hated myself, well, humanity in general. I wouldn't spare anything a second glance, finding it unworthy of my time. He showed me, though, that life can be beautiful, like him. He showed me that not everything is terrible, but that it is a journey, an exciting journey.

But, as I mentioned earlier, moments of silence are rare. Rare, and limited. The thing about my best friend, is he has a small fetish with explosions. The blast from his latest sculpture is what shook me awake from my introspection. With a raised eyebrow, I glanced at him, setting my book down against the wooden desk.

His blonde hair was splayed all over his face, a child-like glee filling his sapphire orbs. The smile that graced his rosy lips was nothing short of aweing. He was an angel. An angel of mass destruction, but a beautiful creature nonetheless.

"Did you see that Danna? It was so pretty, un!" he beamed, flashing those pearls he calls teeth at me.

I smile at him, rolling my eyes. "Brat, it's supposed to be eternal, not a blast."

He pouts for a moment, wagging a finger in my direction, as if I were a dog. "No, Danna, art is a blast! Boom, un!"

He truly is wondrous. A divine creation from the Gods, given to me to protect.

I smiled gently at him, standing from my position at his table. He looked at me questioningly, a delicate flush staining his pale complexion as I sat on the corner of his bed.

"Danna, un?" he asked, watching me with wide eyes.

"Shush, brat."

With that, I set my hands down on his slim shoulders, pushing him back onto the bed. He fell with a soft thud, his hair creating a halo around him on the white pillows. He gave an inaudible gasp, his lips opening ever so slightly. Taking that chance, I dipped down, allowing my lips to wrap around his plump ones perfectly. The blonde gasped, his mouth opening even more. Ever the opportunist, I allowed my tongue to plunge into his orifice, basking in the guttural moan my best friend emitted. I felt his wrap his arms around my neck, pushing me ever so closer to his warm and radiant body. His vanilla tasting appendage wrapped around mine, inviting me to play in an elegant dance. After moments of moaning and kissing, I pulled away, looking down at the face of a God.

His blush became his most prominent feature, the redness of his cheeks looking absolutely delectable. His aquamarine eyes fluttered open, meeting mine.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted you to do that, Danna, un," he breathed, his breath flowing across my face. I smirked lightly down at him, flipping us so he was lying on my chest, my arms encasing his small waist.

"So, why didn't you do it earlier, brat?"

He licked his lips, looking down at me. "I was scared you'd reject me," he admitted, snuggling his face into my chest.

"What, the Hellboy was scared?" I teased, kissing the top of his head lightly.

The blonde looked up at me, sticking his tongue out childishly. "Shut up, Danna!"

The two of us laughed together, bodies mingling and hands caressing. That night was anything but silent and still. We had explored every meaning of art and 'bang' that existed that night, before falling asleep in each other's arms.

I suppose it's cliché to fall for your best friend, but when your friend looks like a God and treats you like you're the greatest thing in the world, it's a hard feeling to resist. After all, you don't choose who you fall in love with.

"I love you, Sasori no Danna."

"I love you too, Deidara."

Even if that means that I fell in love with a wanna-be Hellboy.


End file.
